


Yes

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s05e21 Gaza, Episode: s05e22 Memorial Day, F/M, Post Bartlett Administration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-08
Updated: 2005-10-08
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: That's why I'm here. That's why I came to Germany. For you. For my Donna.





	Yes

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Yes**

**by:** Realmer06 

**Character(s):** Josh Lyman  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Post Administration, Post Ep for _Gaza_ and _Memorial Day_ with mini-spoilers from the first five seasons.   
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:**  
**Summary:** That's why I'm here. That's why I came to Germany. For you. For my Donna.   
**Spoiler:**  
**Author's Note:**

> _"You have to get Josh. He goes through every day worried that somebody he likes is going to die and it's going to be his fault. What do you think makes him walk so fast?"_

Amy told me what you said that night. She told me about your conversation. I don't know why, but she did. How did you know that was what really made me walk so fast, Donna? I'm worried right now. If you . . . well, if that should happen, it will be my fault. I tried to make things up to you. You didn't get to go on the Brussels trip. I tried to make it up to you. Truth is, I wanted you to do more than earn a paycheck, too. But I grapple with that every day because I don't want to lose you. I told Ryan after you left that you were with me because you were invaluable. I meant it. If I were to give you every opportunity you deserve, you'd have to leave because you've got more talent than it takes to work for me. But I don't want to lose you. And now I may anyway. 

I sent you to Gaza. You wanted to do something, but I'm still the one that sent you to Gaza. Nothing else makes a difference. If the worst should happen, it's my fault. Like every other person in my life, it's somehow my fault. The guilt eats at me every day. I don't know if you've seen it. But it does. I was in the discussions for retaliation and do you know what I said? "We need to kill them! We need to find them and to kill them! We kill them! Then we find out who sent them, and we kill them, too! You kill the people who did it, you kill the people who planned it, then you kill everyone who is happy about it!" Because my Donna got hurt, and it was my fault. That's why I'm here. That's why I came to Germany. For you. For my Donna. 

I worked so hard to find out what had happened to you. I knew Fitz was dead, I knew Senators Korb and DeSanto were dead, but all I could ask was "What about Donna?" I pulled every political string I had to find out about you, Donna. I came back with roses, Donna. Roses, to make that bouquet of his look small and ugly in comparison because I don't know who he is or what he's like, but there's no way he's good enough for my Donna. Just like Dr. Freeride, just like Donald, just like Todd or Cliff or Jack or Joe. Just like every other "local gomer" you've dated. None of them will ever be good enough for my Donna. 

You pushed me so hard toward Joey Lucas. You called me chicken, you made me call her, you made fun of my clothes, you gave me all these reasons why we should be together. She didn't see it that way. Do you know what she said? She said, "If you polled a hundred Donna's and asked them if they think we should go out you'd get a high positive response. But the poll wouldn't tell you it's because she likes you and she knows it's beginning to show and she needs to cover herself with misdirection." That is what Joey said. I denied it. Profusely. 

But, you know, Joey wasn't the only one who thought something was going on. Do you want to know who else did? Jack did, Amy did, for God's sake, even Leo did! And those are just the ones who mentioned something! Were you ever going to say anything? 

I know Amy asked you about it. She told me. She asked you if you were in love with me, and you didn't answer. 

I need you, Donna. The pathetic part about that is, it took something like this for me to fully realize how much. I ignored the "No Admittance" sign on the operation area. I was all set to burst into that room to get answers. For you. 

Any sane boss would have fired you by now. I know, you're impervious, but I mean that. You make fun of me, you talk back, you tell me to shut up, you don't meekly obey your boss the way assistants are supposed to. And you know what else? I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Of course, any sane assistant would probably have quit by now. I yell at you, snap at you, make you work past midnight and come in early the same morning. I ask you to do crazy things that no one else wants to do, I send you to places like North Dakota instead of Hawaii. I send you to meetings with Communists and the "there but for the grace of God" Society. I don't give you all the opportunities you deserve and it's because I'm selfish and I think maybe you know that. But you still stay. 

You have managed to get yourself into a lot of rather serious trouble, Donna. You lied under oath, and we managed to get out of that one. You covered for Jack because his career was ‘important.' Well, I wasn't going to let you get away with that, Donna. Because your career is important, too. You should have realized I'd figure it out. That's the only time you've ever lied to me, and the fact that it was for a Republican Navy Officer, who traded ballots with you, who wore a dress uniform with thirteen buttons on the trousers, made it even harder for me to stand. We got out of that one, too. And it may be Bambi-esque to say this, but you could have gotten into trouble for that Teen Magazine article, and I was just looking out for you. You've been lucky, Donna. And I've been lucky to have you. 

You impressed me that first day. Sitting there, answering my phone, trying to make it look like you'd always been there so I maybe wouldn't notice I'd never hired you. And I'll tell you this, too. Talking back to me when trying to convince me to hire you at all was a gutsy thing to do. But, "I think you might find me valuable" got me. And the face. You may call it your regular face, but it won me over, too. And you know what? You have been valuable. I meant what I wrote in the book I gave you in lieu of skis (which would have killed me). I don't want to think where'd I'd be today if I had turned you down. Or if you'd never dropped out of college in the first place. So I guess I owe Dr. Freeride a thank you. Without him, I wouldn't have you. 

I need you, Donna. I need you to tell me not to shout. I need you to tell me to shut up. I need you to tie my bow tie, remind me where my mother lives, and never bring me coffee. I need you to warn me about my sensitive system and then scold me when I drink to much anyway and come to work hung over. 

Also, I need to be able to make fun of your handwriting and your typos and your social life. I need to be able to go every round with you, every day. I need you to keep my wit sharpened and make me think and anticipate things like the Capital Building being blown up. I need you to tell me things I never wanted to know, like executions in Indonesia and leaf peeping and philately. 

You have helped the President, you know. When you take on the tasks that no one else wants, he notices. I assigned you to the pardon thing and it really got to you and he noticed. I did too. You said you needed to learn to be more at arm's length. You don't, Donna. You really don't. 

That's one of the many things I love about you. You have such an innocent and loving soul that you always give one hundred and ten percent. I love that you keep a "What a Shame" folder. I love how you take care of me and make me go home and sleep every few days. I love how you think my mother is sweet simply because she sends me shoes. I love that you've gotten to the point where you can speak casually of how I almost died. 

I'm standing by this window, looking at you, lying on the table, your life in someone else's hands. You look so weak and vulnerable and I gotta tell you, Donna. Weakness and vulnerability really don't suit you. If I could find a way to give something up to help you live, I would. "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may," you told me. I didn't. I'm regretting that now. 

If I stand at a certain angle, the reflection of my face covers yours and I morbidly think, is this what it was like for you after Rosslyn? Standing by a window, looking in at me, feeling utterly helpless? Were your hands ice-cold and your feet numb and your head spinning with all the things you should have done? 

My cell just rang, scaring me half to death. My watch says I've been standing here without moving for an hour and three minutes, but the clock on the wall says it's more like an hour and thirteen, and yes, I know my watch sucks. Do you know who was on my cell? The President. The President called to check up on you, and I couldn't lie to him. I told him what had happened. I told him to tell everyone else and also to tell them not to call because I didn't think I could talk to anyone. 

I know how you feel now, Donna, and I don't like it. I feel helpless, of no value. I can't stand by the window anymore, I can't. I can't just stand there and watch. 

I need you to live, Donna. I know you will simply because I know God. He's more creative than that. He wouldn't take two people out of my life in the same way. He wouldn't take you and my father through a pulmonary embolism, a blood clot. 

I have to believe you're going to pull through because I don't know how to go on if you don't. Honest to God, I don't know how. If you aren't there to give me parables about the surplus, if you aren't there to not tell me when someone's in my office, if you aren't there to look for me out the window, I don't know how I'll get through my job. 

If you die, Donna, I'm resigning. I'm resigning because I can't do my job without you. Because I'll have to concentrate so hard on just living without you that I won't be able to handle anything else. 

When you get out of there and come back to work, you know what's going to change? Nothing. I'm still going to snark you every April and send you flowers for our not anniversary. I'm still going to insist upon the finest muffins and bagels in the land upon my day of jubilee. I may give you a raise, and I may take you to Hawaii, but I wouldn't hold your breath. I'm still going to put you in charge of shopping and I'm not going to tell you what I got you for Christmas and I'm going to insist upon no parties for my birthday. I'm going to have the band play Canada's national anthem for you and come take you to a ball in the middle of the night and insist upon being referred to as "Wild Thing." I'm still going to tell the endearing stories about you simply to make guys think you're flaky, so that they'll stay away. 

Do you know what you're going to do? You're still going to hate me every April and tell your boss to shove it. You're still going to tell me not to encourage my fanclub on LemonLyman.com and I'm still not going to listen to you, even if you're right. You're going to tell me I'm impatient and remind me that you don't have x-ray vision, even if you should. You're going to let me explain things you don't care about, but you're not going to let me scare away a bird that's been driving you crazy. You're going to tell me that I have no charm, that I have to eat at a breakfast meeting I don't want to go to, and that the system sucks. You're going to use obscure metaphors like cats and diets to make a point that will actually become major government policy. 

I'll still think that if ceiling tiles fall on anyone, it should be you, that you would have fun being my caddy, and that you should have warp speed, even if you don't. Like x-ray vision. You'll still think that I should learn to use my computer, that I should learn to be more observant, and that I should have realized that I'd never play pro baseball a long time ago. 

You aren't just my assistant, Donna. And you never have been. You know when I say we, I mean you, but I'll still help because you're a controlling sort of person. You call me ‘baby' without even thinking about it, and you joke about missing me at night. You know I don't have solutions for the President when I say I do, but you ask anyway. You can call me ridiculous twice in one sentence and I can put you down and make your point at the same time, and it won't be a record. You are not an ‘also dead' and you never could be because you are more important than that. You put up with a lot from me, but you aren't afraid to humble me when I really need it and you do it with a straightforwardness I find refreshing amidst the political realm of the White House. You are amazing because you can wake up from a life-threatening accident and tell me I need to shave. 

I kept my promise, Donna. I didn't stop for a beer. I think I even ran one or two red lights. I came to Germany for my Donna and I'm not leaving without her. Gather ye rosebuds? Okay. I love you, Donnatella Moss. And I have to believe it's not too late to say that. 

You never answered Amy. You didn't have to. I know the answer. It's mine, too. 

Yes. 


End file.
